Scientifically Speaking
by the prosecution rests
Summary: Ema Skye knew her life was headed downhill as soon as she received the proficiency test results-- and met the new prosecutor. And found out what happened to Phoenix Wright. And started her new job. You get the picture. KlaviEma, T to be safe.
1. Prologue

**author's notes:** This is my first fanfiction, truth be told. I'm a big fan of Ema Skye and her pairing with that glimmerous fop, and decided to write a fanfiction chronicling Ema's life after Europe. Spoilers for any and all games. I'll try my best to stay in character when the dialogue starts up-- and to tone down my descriptive writing instinct. I've noticed fanfiction tends to be more dialogue-oriented. Or plot-oriented. Or interesting-ness oriented. So if I get boring, tell me! _Prologue is very short_. Following chapters will be longer, I promise!

**warnings:** pairings blatantly involved are Klavier&Ema, with references towards others, such as Gumshoe&Maggey. This is all coming later though, I suppose. I think the "omg I don't own the characters" disclaimers at the beginning of **fan**fiction are a bit odd, so I won't bother with those.

**thanks for reading!  
**-- _the prosecution rests_

* * *

**Prologue**

The plane landed roughly, shaking the rows of seated passengers and rattling the overhead baggage. Those stuck in the back found themselves even more cramped than usual as they awaited to disembark after a flight much too long for any normal person to cope with.

"Here at YouFly airlines, we'd like to be the first to welcome you to Los Angeles, or wherever your final destination will be. For connecting flight information…"

With a groan, Ema Skye unbuckled her seatbelt and stood shakily, forcing her eyes to stay open against the relentless jetlag assault. She peered out the small plane window through rose-tinted sunglasses, trying to take in as much of the runway and airport as she could before walking down the long aisle to the exist.

_Home._

Something about seeing the Los Angeles International Airport again shook her up terribly. Fiddling with a piece of hair dangling in front of her face, Ema felt so preoccupied by everything about being back. The last time she had been in America was over eight years ago, and the weight of return hung over her like her own personal rain cloud.

And yet, despite the worry, the anxiety, and the fact that she hadn't seen a familiar face in years, a thrill of excitement coursed though her veins as she trekked through the airport and retrieved her bags.

_Sis. Mr. Wright. Mr. Edgeworth!_

Hailing a cab proved easy, and as she found herself rushing towards the city limits, Ema was once again reminded of why she was back. Studying abroad for so many years had trained her for this: her purpose. _The interview is in a week,_ she thought, knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip on the taxi door handle. _And the proficiency test! I'm just a few steps away from science—real science!_

It was about a half an hour's ride from the airport to her new apartment. One bedroom, nothing to write home about in terms of square footage, but it was hers all the same. She set her things down, glancing around at the stark lack of furnishing, and rushed to the window to stare down five floors to the streets below.

_I'm back._


	2. Chapter One: Proficiency

**author's note:** sorry for the lyrics at the beginning and the end-- this story was originally intended to be a series of songfics, afterall. I guess it's just the fitting music that I listened to looping while I wrote. If it's too awful, I can always remove it. In any case, enjoy, and I'm sorry for the lack of anything too interesting happening yet. It's still setting up..

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Smeared black ink… your palms are sweaty,  
And I'm barely listening to last demands  
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering,  
What's underneath where I am…_

_I wear my badge… a vinyl sticker,  
With big black letters adherent to my chest  
That tells your new friends, I am a visitor here  
I am not permanent_

* * *

_Where did all my confidence go?_ Thought Ema dryly as she walked slowly across the parking lot. Each step she took was shakier than the one before, black heels clattering on the pavement, as if they were announcing her new presence—the fact that she was indeed new here. The walk to the LAPD precinct headquarters had taken her much longer than she expected, and yet she was a good twenty minutes early for the interview.

_Calm down, Ema. You've got this. It's not like this is the first time you've had an interview—remember high school, and the Academy,_ she chided herself, trying to push aside the fact that this was, in actuality, her first job interview. Breathing deeply, Ema tried to imagine how her sister would take on this challenge.

Lana. She would know how to handle this situation. She could probably pass the proficiency test with her eyes closed, education abroad or not. She would be able to have the interviewer eating from her hand within minutes, and would have secured the job. _But of course, things can't be so easy for me! Studying until I drop, and I'm still as nervous as ever._

Ema's arms felt like lead as they pushed the clear glass doors to the precinct open. The feeling of numb nervousness never left her as she fixed a visitor's ID badge to her lab coat and scrawled her name onto the sign-in. She nodded a quick, silent thanks to the guard as he pointed her way down the halls and began walking.

The office was small, with a window covering most of the black wall and bookshelves lining the side walls. A single mahogany desk was in the center, with a dull-looking man peering over rectangular glasses at her.

"You're Miss Skye, correct?" he asked in a raspy voice, putting away something that looked like a report.

"Yes, sir, " Ema replied, nearly choking from the effort of speaking while nervous. "Interviewing for a job—as a forensic scientist, that is. If I'm in the right place; that's here, right? And I haven't taken the proficiency test too, and I don't think this is where it will be, so—"

"Shh," uttered the man, holding up a hand. He nodded with a bit of a grunt, and adjusted himself in his large swivel chair, smiling. Pulling his glasses off, he peered at Ema for a moment, pausing. "Take a seat, Miss Skye. Let's begin!

* * *

As soon as Ema was released from the precinct for her testing, she felt a bit more confident, though she tucked away all memories of the practical portion of her forensics proficiency exam in a corner of her mind where they would never be visited again._ You're this close, Skye,_ she thought to herself. Now all you have to do is wait. _Ahh! My phone!_

The theme to the Steel Samurai accompanied a rattling vibration in her coat pocket. Fishing the phone out, Ema flipped it open and held it up to her ear.

"Ema?" said the voice at the other end. Its familiarity filled Ema's chest with a warmth as she heard it.

Ema grinned, speeding up her pace. "Hey, sis! What perfect timing for your call—I just got out of my job interview down at the precinct. We haven't talked in forever. What're you up to?"

"You know, maybe we should discuss further over lunch or something," replied Lana. "Since you're back and all, and I've been free for a few years now." She laughed, and Ema winced at the memory of her sister's time in jail, and its circumstances.

"Uh, sure. How about… now? Why don't you meet me at my apartment? Just warning you, though—it's a fifth floor walk-up!"

"Sounds fine to me," said Lana. "You'll have to tell me what's happened in the past week since you left the Academy!"

Ema clicked the phone shut, rushing towards her apartment now. _Oh, it's times like these I wish I had a car,_ she grumbled internally. _Or a bike. But, scientific analysis is clear—it's healthier and less dangerous to walk._

She was a few blocks from her apartment when a display in the front of a bodega caught her eye. Row upon row of bags filled with chocolate-covered snacks were sitting under a sign advertising a sale.

Ema's eyes lit up. She reached inside her purse to fish through papers and her scientific necessities to find her wallet. Something was so appetizing about those snacks that she just had to get her hands on. It was only when she was walking out of the store with five bags crammed into her purse that she realized how hungry she really was.

Arriving at her apartment left her breathless from the walk. "So out of shape," groaned Ema as she struggled with the lock and bolt to stumble into her living room. She threw her bag on the couch and shuffled to the bathroom to fix up her appearance before Lana arrived.

* * *

"Oh, look at you, Ema! You're so much taller than the photos made you seem! But you still won't get rid of that lab coat, will you?" said Lana through a tight hug. Ema squirmed free, bewildered at the intense cheer emanating from her sister.

"Scientifically speaking, Lana, I'll be needing this coat for work soon," said Ema, breaking away from the hug. "If everything goes well, that is. So… lunch?"

Lana nodded. "I've already made reservations. Let's go."

_Prepared as always._

* * *

The lunch date went smoothly, as planned. It wasn't like Lana to have things not go smoothly, after all. All the catching up that the sisters had to do had flown over Ema's head in moments, and soon she was curled up on her couch, with nothing but a blank white wall to stare at, and with nothing to do.

_God, who thought that living in a new place could be so boring? I can't even figure out how to get into contact with Mr. Wright... so few friend's I've got here after all, I guess,_ thought Ema, glancing around her bare apartment dolefully. She found her hand rustling through her purse, her fingers grasping around an inviting plastic bag. Taking the package of baked snacks, Ema popped one into her mouth, feeling a release of stress with the chocolaty taste.

She stayed that way for the rest of the evening, until at some point her head stared nodding and her eyes drifted shut.

* * *

_

The weeks until Ema received the phone call passed slowly, but preciously. She floated around the streets and the apartment in a dream-like state, clinging onto her newfound snacks to keep her company in the lonely spaces. She had almost completely forgotten about the proficiency test and her job interview when the letter came in the mail.

"The results!" shouted Ema as she opened her small mailbox on the base floor of her walkup. She ripped the manila envelope open, fumbling with it as she ran up the stairs at a breakneck pace. The papers inside were many in number—that was supposed to be a good sign, right?

It didn't take her long to read the report. It took longer to figure out what it meant. And to believe it.

"**To**: Miss Ema Skye  
**From**: Fredrick Dalton, Forensics Head

Thank you for taking the forensics proficiency exam! We appreciate your interest in taking part in the LAPD's forensics department. Your test results are as follows:

**Written examination**: 96/100  
**Practical examination**: 31/100

We're sorry, but the score wasn't sufficient to qualify you for a job in the forensics department of the Los Angeles Police Force. Thank you for your efforts.

Signed,  
_Fredrick Dalton, Forensics Department Head, LAPD_"

The call came that day too, offering the job in the homicide department. Ema's hands were numb as she gripped the phone, and muttered her agreement. Lana was the next person she called, though all words of comfort bounced off her mind like rain on a tin roof.

* * *

_You seem so out of context  
In this gaudy apartment complex  
A stranger with the door key  
Explaining that I am just visiting_

_And I am finally seeing  
Why I was the one worth leaving._

_LA sleeps alone tonight.  
_


	3. Chapter Two: Introductions

**author's notes:** not much to say. But the story begins now, finally! I'm finally figuring out this confusing document managing stuff.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

_Once I was a young man  
Looked over vales and hills  
Saw myself a future  
of riches and of thrills  
But on me fifteenth birthday  
I paid my union dues  
And they sent me deep into the ground_

"_Hey, Ema,_

_Your first day of work's coming up, isn't it? It may not be exactly what you wished for, but things may shape up to be better than you thought they'd be. Just remember to keep your chin up, alright? You've got to make a good impression as soon as you step in there. You may even be working with the prosecutor sooner than you think, after all. Call me one of these days; now that you have a real life, we should have more to talk about. In any case, good luck with the new job. It feels like almost yesterday I was starting out as a detective. Just don't let anything happen to you, alright?_

_Love,  
Lana_"

Ema sighed as she packed her belongings into her pink purse. Dejected as she was about her first day at the job she didn't want, she couldn't deny her scientific instincts, packing all the necessities along: fingerprinting powder, luminol testing spray, samples of her favorite chemicals, and two bags of chocolate snackoos. On her way out of the small apartment, Ema glanced into the mirror to adjust her red necktie and roll up the sleeves of her labcoat before bolting the door behind her and walking slowly down the stairs.

The thirty-minutes walk route to the precinct provided a refuge for Ema as she took in the familiar sights around here. There was something oddly peaceful about the Los Angeles streets in the morning. Sure, it was a car town, but walking gave Ema a chance to calm her nerves and roiling emotions before showing up at her new workplace.

Ema was just plucking a snackoo from her first bag of the day when an unpleasant rumbling began fading in from behind her. It was a nasty, gutteral sound; not at all pleasing. _Somebody sure needs a new muffler for their car,_ thought Ema, exasperated at the disruption of her morning peace. The rumble grew to a deafening roar as a gust of wind sent Ema's labcoat fluttering. Gripping her glasses, she squinted, trying to make out what had caused the disturbance.

_Of course,_ she thought after successfully identifying the culprit. _Some punk on a motorcycle. And an ugly shade of auburgine. Or is that maroon? I should probably analyze that color some day. And I bet it was going a good 30 miles per hour above the speed limit—I sure hope that driver passes by the patrol cars outside the precinct._

Ema had no idea exactly how close to the precinct that motorcycle would be going.

* * *

"And this here will be your desk, pal," said a broad shouldered man wearing a coat that seemed much too old for its own good. "Look, you get a swivel chair and a lamp and everything! That's more furniture than I've got at my pad all together."

Ema forced a wry smile at her tour guide. "Thanks, Detective Gumshoe," she replied, settling her bag on the desk, which looked pristine from its disuse. "So, what's next?"

"Well, pal, I've shown you the break room, hallways, and most of the offices… oh, right! I guess you'll need to introduce yourself to the High Prosecutor. He is our boss, after all," said Gumshoe, scratching his head.

Ema's eyes lit up. "Oh! Mr. Edgeworth! It's been so many years since we last met. I wonder if he'll remember me after all this time."

"You know Prosecutor Edgeworth?" responded Gumshoe excitedly. "We worked on lots of cases together, back in the day. My salary was always suffering from it, though. Huh, it hasn't improved in recent years though, pal. I'm still on a steady diet of one cup of instant noodles a night."

Ema winced.

He led Ema down a few passages, each one vaguely familiar. Ema had, after all, spent some time here as a child. She ran through several ways to greet Prosecutor Edgeworth in her head, not wanting to sound too awkward, but not boring either.

"Here we are, pal," said Gumshoe, hand on the doorknob to the High Prosecutor's office. "Good luck in there. I guess I'll see you later. Got someone to meet, you see…" His voice trailed off as he shuffled away, leaving Ema in front of the large, familiar maroon door.

_Alright, Skye. Here goes nothing._ She pushed open the heavy door.

"Wh-what _is_ this? Mr. Edgeworth?" gasped Ema, her words lost in a stream of earsplitting rock music. Covering her ears against the assault, Ema glanced around the room, dread seeping through her. _Oh god, no. It can't be._

No suit mounted on the wall. No flowers or tea set or King of Prosecutors trophy. No chess set, no book shelves, no refined, polished desk—what was happening? The office was like nothing Ema would ever expect from Miles Edgeworth, with a trio of flat-panel television screens mounted in front of a high-end massage recliner. The only desks in sight appeared to actually be over-sized speakers _used_ as desks, and were covered with scattered papers and CDs instead of organized stacks of documents. And on the wall, what was once a library filled with law books was replaced with the world's largest _guitar_ display. And then there was that awful music…

"Mr-Mr. Edgeworth?" called Ema. "What happened?" She looked around, trying to locate a person in the office. She had to squint hard through her pink glasses to make out the shape of a man lounging in the chair in the back. "Hello?"

"Is that the voice of a Fräulein I hear?"

The speaker's voice was deep and smooth in the most obnoxious of ways, with a hint of some sort of European accent. Ema couldn't quite identify it, despite her exposure to various European cultures. She was sure of one thing, however: that was _not_ Mr. Edgeworth.

The man lounging in the chair got up and walked towards her, waving a remote at the speakers and cutting the music off. He had the strangest of hair styles, with long blonde bangs and something that looked vaguely like a cross between a unicorn's horn and a ponytail dangling in front of his shoulder. He wore a popped-collar black oxford shirt with a plum-colored jacket on top of it. Chains dangled everywhere. _Who the hell does this guy think he is?_ thought Ema. _A rock star or something? But somehow… he looks strangely familiar._

"It's not nice to stare, Fräulein," said the man in that voice of hers. "Why not a proper introduction? You certainly don't need me to introduce myself, considering everyone knows me, ja?"

Ema immediately did _not_ like this guy. "Of course I don't know you, um, sir," she said, trying to remember Lana's advice to make good first impressions, even if _he_ didn't. "I'm the new detective, Ema Skye, in any case. I thought this was Prosecutor Edgeworth's office."

The man laughed. "Fräulein detective doesn't know Klavier Gavin, star of the hit band The Gavinners? I'm the residing High Prosecutor. If you're looking for Miles Edgeworth… he was last seen in Europe somewhere." He extended a hand to shake Ema's, and she noticed the abundance of rings on it. _Ugh._

"O-oh," she said, utterly disappointed. "I didn't know Mr. Edgeworth had left the country! And to think, I just got back from Europe, too." Her face fell.

Klavier eyed her. "A frown is hardly fitting for such a face, Fräulein. Europe is a large place, you know. Even if you were in the same country, the chances of running into him would be incredibly low, ja? But you say you studied in Europe… May I inquire as to where exactly you were schooled?"

"Oh, Germany," said Ema. Just the way he spoke made her blood boil. She could almost see the arrogance oozing out of his pores. "At the International Academy of Criminal Justice. I was in the forensics division, though we can all see what good that did me."

"Ah, the Academy. I left there when I was seventeen after taking the Bar Exam to become a prosecutor. I have, of course, dedicated myself to other professions too," he said. "So you're going to be joining our forensics division?"

_Did he even pay attention to my introduction?_ groaned Ema inwardly. "No, like I said, I'm a homicide detective. That's probably why I ended up being introduced to you, after all." Her grip on the strap to her bag tightened as she tried to channel her anger into it.

Klavier laughed. "Don't get so worked up, Fräulein. You'll have plenty of time to express your feelings for me. We will, after all, be working together. Consider yourself lucky to work so closely with me. Discounted concert passes may even be in order, ja?"

Ema could only stare, pretending she had lasers in her eyes that were boring into that arrogant man, that _fop's_ forehead. It was only after she realized her awkward pause that she nodded and uttered her goodbyes, slipping out of the room.

* * *

_8 January 2026_

_First day at work. The world just poured salt in the wound—Prosecutor Edgeworth is gone, and some glimmerous fop has replaced him. That Klavier Gavin… Is he even worthy of being called a prosecutor?  
It's bad enough I have the job I didn't want. Now I get to be stuck with a glimmerous fop of a prosecutor, too._

_

* * *

_


	4. Chapter Three: Commute

**author's notes:** again, not much to write here. This chapter may be a little rushed and a little short, and I'm so sorry for that! I'm trying not to take the Klavier/Ema relationship too quickly like some fanfics do-- she does, after all, hate him at first, or so it seems. Feedback is always loved!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_29 January 2026_

_Still nothing doing at the job. It's been three weeks since I started and I've dealt with two crime scenes—they both sucked. Not to mention, that prosecutor won't stop taking every moment he finds to figure out a new way to drive me insane. Yesterday he passed by my desk thirty three times; what gives?_

_

* * *

  
_

Ema hunched over the white tape, fiddling with a triangular sign with the label "3" next to the blood spatter on the ground. The case was simple—no twists, nothing unexplained, no reason to apply her mail-order forensics kits. She was put on the job too late to even fingerprint the murder weapon; that prosecutor had already sent it off to the _real_ forensics lab. Technically, she should have been thankful for having her job—she could be driving around in a patrol car, or directing traffic. But somehow she almost would have rather been doing that rather than mulling over a crime scene where mulling was hardly necessary.

Almost unconsciously, her hand reached into her purse and yanked out a bag of snackoos. She bit into the first one hard, with a satisfying crunch, standing up and taking a few steps back from the rather boring crime scene. As she ate, her anger melted away. She turned her head to one of the nearby patrolmen—one of her subordinates. "You there, officer," she called crossly. "Take care of this crime scene. I'm pretty sure there's nothing more to find, anyway. I'm taking the rest of the day off."

"B-but Detective Skye," whined the officer. "You haven't been dismissed by Prosecutor Gavin. And you can't leave the rest of the investigation to—ouch!"

Without realizing it, Ema had flung a chocolate snackoo at the police officer, along with a stony glare. "There's nothing more to investigate. Forensics has already ID'ed the criminal, and the warrant for arrest is processing. All that needs to be done is wrap-up, and I'm certain you can handle that."

With that, she spun on her black heels and walked away, utterly sullen. _Maybe coming back here was a mistake, after all. I can't even figure out where Mr. Wright's gone to, my job's down the drain, I can't for the life of me perk up! But there's always those delicious snackoos…_ The thought of the chocolate dough snacks brightened her mood again.

She had made it about a block from the crime scene when the roar of a motorcycle sputtered into earshot. Ema's blood froze as she dug her fingernails into the bag of snackoos. _This is the last thing I need right now,_ she thought, speeding up her pace. Her heels clicked aggressively on the sidewalk as she tried to outpace the motorcycle.

"Where are you going so quickly, Fräulein detective?" came that voice. The sound of it made Ema quicken her pace to a vigorous power walk, and that was just the tone. His words caused her face to flush with anger and her eyes to glare angrily in the distance as she focused on her path home. She hoped for his sake that Prosecutor Gavin would make the choice to keep on driving, and leave her in peace.

"You know your shift's not technically over yet," said Klavier, pulling his motorcycle up to cruise alongside Ema as she walked faster and faster. "I know you probably have a boyfriend to meet that just so happens to be much more important than your job, but there's more cleaning up to do at the crime scene, ja?"

Ema glared ahead. "First, I don't have a—" she started to say, but she caught herself. _Come on, Ema, don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Keep walking. Just keep walking._

"Achtung, it's rude to ignore your boss so blatantly, Fräulein Skye. You wouldn't want to be kicked off the force so early in your employment, would you?" said Klavier smoothly, pulling ahead of her slightly so he could look back at her.

"Is that a threat?" retorted Ema, breaking her vow of silence just moments after making it. "You and I both know you wouldn't do that. Plus, it's not like my leaving early will affect anything. You've already bagged the culprit, _ja_?" she continued, imitating Gavin's accent at the end. "It just needs to be cleaned up now."

Klavier sighed, shaking his blonde-mopped head. "I suppose you're right, Fräulein. Just don't forget your place. I suppose I will let you leave early without being penalized… but I will need repayment."

Ema turned her head towards him for the first time in their exchange, still glaring. She pulled a snackoo out of her bag and began crunching thoughtfully. "What do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Ah, Fräulein," said Klavier, pausing for a moment. "How about a ride home? Certainly you don't live that close by. It must be a long way to walk—Hey!" His motorcycle veered of course as he was hit squarely between the eyes by a chocolate-covered projectile.

"Absolutely not!" shouted Ema Skye, before turning down a one way street.

* * *

_2 Feburary 2026_

_And here I was thinking it couldn't get any worse. Prosecutor Gavin has become accustomed to following me home from work every day, asking me out in one way or another. A ride home, lunch, one of his concerts. Luckily, he hasn't formally made any of these requests as my boss—just as the glimmerous fop he is. So luckily for me, I'm not bound or anything._

_

* * *

  
_

_19 February 2026_

_11: 49 pm_

_I called in sick on Valentine's Day. It just wasn't worth it, you know? But I think the fop saw through my fake cough. Well, he let me stay home anyway, so no complaints here. Work's picking up here… I never knew so much paperwork would accompany my job. And I'm still here late at night filing it; that's why I wrote the time… I wish I didn't ha_

Ema's head collapsed into her folded arms, shoving her pen aside as it traced a line rolling off the page. Paperwork still to be read and filed was pushed off to the corner of her desk, and her lamp was askew again. She felt her mind drift away as her eyes slowly fluttered shut; asleep at her desk.

She lost complete track of time in her slumber. It wasn't until a chair creaked beside her and an all-too familiar voice met her ears that she began to regain consciousness. When she opened her eyes, she was horrified at what she saw.

_The fop._ Hovering over her with that smirk of his. He grinned, staring down at her with blue eyes, and she felt her stomach roil.

"It's late, Fräulein. It's probably time you're heading home, ja?" he said, still way too close for comfort.

Ema's adrenaline kicked into gear as she leapt up from her swivel chair to stand several feet away from him. _Why the hell was he here so late?_ she thought. "Prosecutor Gavin, thanks for waking me up and all, but I was fine as is. I'll be leaving now," she said curtly, too tired to muster up a proper amount of venom. As she turned for the door, Klavier stuck out his hand and caught her shoulder.

"There's no time like the present," he said softly. "It's dark out, and far too dangerous for a Fräulein such as yourself to be wandering alone for your long walk home. Why don't I escort you on my bike?"

Ema paused, turning her head back momentarily, still glaring. Static nearly crackled in the air as he awaited her response.

"Absolutely not," she snarled, and whisked out the door.


	5. Chapter Four: Location

**author's notes:** unfortunately, this could be my last chapter I get to put up in a while. I have a busy last day of winter break today, with exams coming up as soon as I get back. I'll keep writing by hand, however... just, nothing will really get up. Sorry!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

After the thoroughly humiliating events of the night before, Ema had no choice but to completely ignore Klavier Gavin, except for the few times when it became utterly necessary to acknowledge his presence. Every time the thought of his smug face leaning in close to her that night crossed her mind, she felt heat rising in her face as her stomach churned in disgust. _Oh, if only it was Miles Edgeworth who was the prosecutor,_ she thought miserably, sitting at her desk. _This job wouldn't be half bad if he was around_.

Scrawling her name on the line at the bottom of the paperwork stack, Ema shoved it away with a sigh. _Another case down the drain._ Hardly anything as strange or dramatic as the cases she had been involve with before leaving the country had occurred. She couldn't help but think it was Phoenix Wright's presence that kept the interesting case files piling up, and is his current absence, things were getting boring again.

"Detective Skye?" said a gruff, friendly voice. Ema turned her head to look wearily at the speaker.

"Oh, Detective Gumshoe," said Ema, shocked out of her reverie by the call of "duty". "Those for me?" she said, glancing at the fresh stack of ppers and evidence clutched in his hands.

Gumshoe grinned, dropping the stack on her desk. "The results from the investigation earlier today, pal," he said. "You're supposed to look over it, but I guess you seem pretty busy as it is. I can leave if you want, pal."

"Oh, it's fine, Detective," said Ema. It briefly crossed her mind that in these short weeks she had ended up being Gumshoe's superior, despite his many years of service with the LAPD. "But before you leave, there's something I've been wondering… do you know where Mr. Wright went?"

Gumshoe stared blankly, pausing awkwardly. "Oh, Mr. Wright," he blurted suddenly. "Nobody really talks about him much. I guess it's almost become something to keep quiet about now, considering the pressure he put on us in court and the, ah, circumstances of it all, pal. But y'know, after he was disbarred—"

"What?!" Ema cried, nearly choking on a snackoo. "Did you say that Mr. Wright was disbarred? Phoenix Wright, the man who saved me, the 'ace attorney', is no longer a lawyer?" Her heart pounded frantically. _Why has no one told me this?_

"Er—yeah, pal," said Gumshoe, scratching his head. "It happened about seven years ago, I'd guess. They say he presented false evidence, pal. Prosecutor Gavin received a tip-off about it, y'see, and he caught Mr. Wright in the act." He glanced at Ema, eyes widening at her expression of utter disgust.

Ema crunched down on a snackoo loudly, almost feeling steam pouring from her ears. "You mean to say, Detective," she spat, "that Mr. Wright was disbarred at the hands of that glimmerous fop?"

"Er—yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying, pal. Sure never thought of it that way. He's still around, though… that's what I hear. Maybe you could find him, pal." Gumeshoe looked at Ema again, deciding it would be safer to make a get away while he was ahead. "Well, pal, enjoy the case files. I—er, have someone to meet, y'know." He shuffled off down the hallway, leaving Ema staring furiously into the distance.

She just couldn't believe it. _Mr. Wright… Is no longer a lawyer? What is he doing now, I wonder? If only I could find him… And to think it's all Prosecutor Gavin's fault!_

Ignoring her new stack of paperwork for now, Ema flipped up the screen to her work computer and began searching for Phoenix Wright.

* * *

_Mr. Wright—_

_I doubt you remember me after all this time; it's been more than eight years since you saved me and my sister—maybe nine years now, actually. I'm hardly sure anymore. I've finally come back to Los Angeles after studying at the International Academy of Criminal Justice, and the first thing I did upon coming back was fail my forensics proficiency exam. I heard you had left law for good, too, but I just can't believe it. I'd love to hear from you so we can catch up again. I owe you a lot, after all. The attached piece of paper has my contact information. Maybe we could meet over coffee some day?_

—_Ema Skye_

_

* * *

  
_

If Ema thought she disliked Klavier Gavin before, she now _hated_ him for what he did to Mr. Wright. There was no way that _the_ Phoenix Wright could forge evidence, which left the real culprit to be the prosecution, with their so-called "tip off." _That fop is really going to get it one day,_ she thought angrily. _I hope he wanders into the forensics lab and runs into a shelf loaded with toxic chemicals. A good bit of hydrochloric acid could set him right._ Her pen scribbled on her paperwork harder as her thoughts grew angrier.

She finished the files faster than she thought. _I guess I'm directing all that anger towards something useful for once,_ she thought. _Now, where do I need to take these papers?_ Her eyes traveled down the page until they fell onto the section headed "Prosecuting Attorney." Ema felt her stomach tighten as she saw the name.

_Son of a bitch. Klavier-freaking-Gavin._

_

* * *

  
_

_Ema—_

_Of course I remember you. But I think catching up is best done over a nice bottle of grape juice instead of through the mail. Want to meet up on the 26__th__ at 10:00 am? Come by the café next door to the Borscht Bowl club._

_—__Phoenix_

_P.S. sorry to hear about your proficiency test._

_

* * *

  
_

Ema knocked on the maroon door, keeping her eyes on the stack of files in her hands. She was hoping no one would answer.

_No such luck._ The door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with a much more refined-looking Klavier Gavin. He wore a trim blue suit with an elegant tie, and had miraculously rid himself of those gaudy chains. Not to mention he had traded in his indoor sunglasses for a normal pair.

"Oh, prosecutor Gavin," said Ema shakily, thrusting the paperwork forward. "I just finished going over this. Since you're the—"

She was cut off as Klavier—_it was Klavier, right?_—held up a hand and shook his head. "Ah, you must be mistaken." He said in a rhythmic, soothing voice. "My name is Kristoph Gavin, attorney at law. I'm the defense for this case, actually. I think you're looking to speak with my little brother, Klavier, are you not, Fräulein…?" He left his sentence open-ended, seeking an introduction.

"Skye. Detective Ema Skye," gabbled Ema, shaking his hand after stuffing the papers under one arm. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Gavin."

"And you too, Detective Skye," uttered Kristoph with a smile, pushing the door open for her as he whisked away.

Ema stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before she realized her task (and the man she would have to face, the real Klavier Gavin) and stepped through the door.

"Ah, I thought I heard the voice of Fräulein Detective outside. How nice of you to pay me a visit after your long silent treatment. Have you finally decided to talk to me again?" said Klavier as she entered. He was leaning back against one of his desk-speakers, as if he was _trying_ to look like he was looking down on her more than usual.

"No, I'm still not speaking to you," was Ema's steely reply as she walked over to the prosecutor and set her stack of papers beside him. As she turned around and began to walk away, something crossed her mind. "Well, maybe I will. But just to ask you something."

"I'm all ears, Fräulein."

Ema took a breath. "Why did you frame Mr. Wright for forging evidence and get him disbarred, Mr. Gavin?" she asked, barely able to keep her tone civil.

"Ah, so _that's_ why you hate me so much, is it? Fräulein, maybe you should check your facts before making such accusations. It isn't becoming of a lovely lady such as yourself, ja?" he purred, inching precariously closer.

Ema glared, stepping back. "So you deny that you ruined Mr. Wright's carreer—and his life?" she asked accusingly.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," responded Klavier, playing with a piece of blonde hair. "I'm a bit busy with work now, you know. Perhaps you'd like to discuss further over lunch, or dinner, perhaps? On me, of course."

_Always the smooth operator._

Ema was horrified. _Using this conversation to ask me out?_ "That's low, Mr. Gavin," she replied. "I decline your offer. Obviously."

Klavier shrugged, hardly seeming phased. That seemed to piss Ema off even more. "Alright then, Fräulein," he said, turning his back on her to pace towards his window. With a wave of his hand, he continued, "Close the door behind you when you leave."

* * *

_If I had eyes in the back of my head  
I would have told you  
That you looked good, as I walked away_

_And if you could've tried to trust the hand that fed  
You would've never been hungry  
But you'll never really be_


	6. Chapter Five: Favors

**author's notes:** alright, I managed to squeeze in one more chapter before I go back to school, and things are finally starting to get interesting in Klavier and Ema's lives. As usual, I'd really appreciate some feedback, so I can mull over it during exam season!

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter Five**

_25 April 2026_

_They say Mr. Wright's bursting back in on the law scene with his new protégé, this kid with a funny name. After Mr. Wright was accused of murder, said protégé proved him innocent and got Kristoph Gavin convicted instead. I have a feeling things are going to get interesting around here. Well, I guess I just hope they'll get interesting. That being said, Klavier's backed off a little bit. (thank goodness) It could have something to do with his brother, but I'm not quite sure. I like to think I finally got the message through his thick, glimmerous skull. But I have to admit, without his constant annoyance, the days here are even more boring and meaningless than usual. He doesn't even follow me home on his motorcycle anymore or offer me rides home (I always refused, anyway!)_

_

* * *

  
_

_18 June 2026_

_Just closed an incredibly exasperating case today. It ended up being thanks to that greenhorn defense attorney after all, though. What was his name again..? It was something like Polly Justness, I think. And I can't believe it—Phoenix Wright has a daughter! Things are getting exciting here. On this case, I finally got to use my newest kits I got through mail-order to help solve the case. _And_ Klavier's motorcycle stopped running in the middle of the investigation! That was probably the best moment of my life, until it turned into one of the worst when a flock of fangirls started mobbing the scene. They didn't even care about our scientific investigation—all they wanted were autographs from the glimmerous fop! I hardly see why somebody like him is cut out to be a prosecutor. As I told Polly Justness, a prosecutor should be sharp of wit and furrowed of brow. Like Mr. Edgeworth—he was a prosecutor quite worthy of the title. It's a shame he's not around._

_

* * *

  
_

_5 July 2026_

Twirling a strand of brown hair in her fingers, Ema stared blankly at her computer screen as she brushed virtual fingerprinting powder over the surface of an equally virtual murder weapon. She furrowed her brow as she matched up the result with a fictional database of fictional people to find the fictional culprit. Just as she was about to guide her three-dimensional forensic investigator character to turn in the results to the head of investigations, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Slacking off again, hmm?" said Klavier, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the screen. "Why isn't Fräulein Detective doing some real scientific investigations instead of sitting inside on her computer and shirking her job?"

The hair along Ema's neck rose as she shivered. He was _way_ too close. "You know as well as I do that there aren't any cases right now," she said dully, resuming her computer game with one hand while the other reached into her omnipresent bag of snackoos. "So why are you here, anyway?"

Klavier didn't move back, despite Ema's open hostility. "You're correct, Fräulein, there are no cases. I suppose that's a good thing. It's also good, because that means you'll be free to work security on the Gavinners concert opening night in two days, ja?" He threw a ticket onto Ema's desk with a smile.

"What makes you think I'd want to work for you in my free time?" said Ema, still not looking up at him. "And what makes you think I'd want to go to one of your fan-filled stadium concerts too? You've got to be kidding me."

Klavier chuckled, leaning in closer. "But Fräulein," he said, "what if I told you this wasn't in your free time? That is… if it became necessary for this month's paycheck to be working security for the Gavinners, I mean. It's an offer that's fairly hard to refuse, ja? And look at it this way: you get a VIP pass to go along with your ticket. You can rock with the Gavinners, and get paid for it too; a win-win situation by any means, I should think."

"So you're ordering me to go to your concert, calling it 'work?'" fumed Ema, snatching up the ticket on her desk regardless. "Whatever. I'll go." _But don't get any ideas, fop,_ she added in her mind. _I'm only going because you're making me._

"Heh," muttered Klavier, brushing his hair back a bit as he pushed himself back from Ema's desk. "I'm glad you've finally come around, Fräulein. You should probably get there early; I'll send you all the identification you'll need though, so you should have little reason to worry. I look forward to our first date!" He turned around and walked away from Ema's desk quickly enough to get out of range of the snackoo that came flying towards him. As he was about to turn the corner down the hall and away from Ema's division, he turned around again and gave her a smile.

"And Fräulein, I suppose it's only fair for you to know: I don't have the authority to order you to do things like this. But since you already said yes, it would be bad form to refuse, ja?"

With those last words, Klavier fled the room, a skip in his step. He didn't have a chance to see Ema in a silent scream, looking ready to rip her hair out. The concert ticket was, however, still clasped in her hand.

* * *

_7 July 2026  
Sunshine Coliseum: before the concert_

The sun was reluctant to set that night as Ema procrastinated, not wanting to enter the Coliseum halls before she had to for her "security detail." She glanced around, attempting to enjoy the peace (fangirl screams and other murmurs of excitement about the Gavinners' concert aside) of the park in the fading evening light. As usual, she had one hand in a clear plastic bag of snackoos, flitting to her mouth every once a while for the opportunity to savor a relaxing, chocolaty snack.

"Fräulein detective!" called a slightly strained voice, and Ema's fragile peace was shattered as a fairly flustered-looking Klavier Gavin ran up to her, a guitar strapped over his back. He was wearing his sunglasses outdoors for once, and also donned more chains and bangles than usual. He also seemed nervous, as if he was trying to hide something.

Ema laughed. "Did I just see you come from a taxi, Prosecutor Gavin?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you had your precious bike towed for parking in somebody's handicapped spot!" _It would serve him right if he did._

Klavier stopped just short of her, and shot her a dry look. "My hog won't run," he said angrily, "and I just spent the past half-hour trying to start it up. I was going to be late for our prep session, so I just had to take a taxi here. Imagine if the fans saw me stooping that low—the Gavinner reputation would be ruined forever."

"Does that even merit a response?" responded Ema tersely, fiddling with a piece of hair. "Well, the sun's almost set now. I guess I might as well take my position in those pits. Enjoy your spot of glimmer, Mr. Prosecutor. Just try not to let your foppishness rub off on anybody." She had just started to walk towards the back door labeled "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" when Klavier caught her arm, holding her back.

"Why take the easy way in when you can dazzle the audience, Fräulein?" asked Klavier with one of his trademark smug grins. He dragged her a few paces towards the front entrance before Ema started straining, trying to break free. "Why don't you take the honor of walking into the concert on the red carpet, with the world-famous Klavier Gavin?"

_Absolutely not, you glimmerous fop!_ said Ema's mind. Something failed to click in the connection between her brain and mouth though, as she stammered a weak, "O-okay. Fine." She was still resisting against his pull, though, trying to ignore his body pressed against hers as he threaded their arms together.

Ema felt like she was having an out-of-body experience as Klavier led her into the concert, waving so _glimmerously_ at his legions of fans. She moved stiffly with him, trying to ignore the fact that somehow, she had ended up in this situation. _How the hell did he manage to get his arm around me?_ she thought venomously as Klavier tried to pull her closer, the smile never leaving his face. _That's way too far._ Ema broke away, walking slightly ahead of him as she pushed her way through the doors to the concert hall, breaking out another bag of her favorite snacks.

"Oh, Fräulein," called Klavier, chasing after her, much to the dismay of his crowd of fans. "Don't be like that—it's all in good fun, ja?"

Ema flung a snackoo at Klavier as he followed her. "Would you _stop_ calling me 'Fräulein' already? Consider it a favor I'm doing you by even being here. This is outside of work, so you're not Prosecutor Gavin, my boss anymore; you're just a glimmerous fop acting way too arrogantly for your own good. I really don't think you'd care for me to splash any of my experimental Hydroxyacelunodosetrase on you just before your concert, so _please._ Leave me alone," she fumed, chest heaving as she took deep, angry breaths.

Klavier seemed taken aback by her sudden speech, and took a few paces back, holding his hands up. "Alright, alright," he said. "I'll try not to disturb you for the rest of the concert, Fräu—er, Ema. But try to enjoy it, would you? We have a special guest singer, after all."

He didn't say another word, or give Ema a chance to respond as he walked off, taking the guitar off his back as he did so.

* * *

_You change your mind  
Like a girl changes clothes  
Yeah, you PMS  
Like a bitch, I would know_

_And you overthink  
Always speak cryptically  
I should know  
That you're no good for me_


	7. Chapter Six: Dinner

**author's note:** this is an AWFUL chapter. and things again are being boring and slow. I need to fix that. Soon. Writer's block eats souls!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_11 July 2026_

The note was stuck to her front door. Ema noticed if from a flight of steps away, quickening her pace despite the hot summer air and the sweat gathering on her back by this point. She plucked it off the frame with one hand while unlocking the door with the other. After tossing her purse onto her only arm chair (now turned into a makeshift coat rack) she turned her eyes to the perfectly aligned, elegant cursive on the page.

_Ema!_

_You haven't returned any of my calls or letters lately! I was starting to get worried, so I thought I'd stop by, but you were out. Call me when you get the chance, would you? We haven't talked since that one time when you got back._

_Love,_

_Lana_

A wave of guilt immediately overtook Ema as she reread her sister's perfect handwriting. In her preoccupation with State vs. Tobaye amongst other cases, the fop, and feeling sorry for herself, Ema had almost completely forgotten about Lana. _It's amazing what leaving home will do to you,_ she mused, turning the note over in her fingers. _Lana stepped in as my mother for so much of my life, and now I'm turning my back on her without a second glance… what's wrong with me?_

She felt herself reaching for her mounted home phone and punching in a number she had long since memorized. As it rang, Ema could picture Lana walking toward the phone, picking it up just after the second ring. Sure enough, it didn't take any longer than ten second for a familiar voice to sound at the other end.

"Hello?"

Ema sucked in a deep breath, trying to push her guilt away long enough to have a relatively normal conversation. "Lana?" she managed, voice cracking. "It's Ema. I'm so sorry I haven't been returning your calls. My phone' more or less always off, yeah…"

"Ema, Ema," chided Lana on the other end. "It's alright. We haven't talked in quite a while. You've sure got a lot to tell me about your new job, and the friends you're making! …Not to mention, any attractive young men you've ferreted out."

Ema winced. "Yeah, about that," she responded. "I've come up a bit short this far. Except for the fop, but he doesn't count. At all."

"What're you talking about, Ema?" said Lana. "Honestly, sometimes you speak a foreign language to me. Well, in any case, why don't we meet up again sometime?"

The idea of a nice meal out with someone like Lana almost washed away Ema's intense feelings of self-pity. "Great!" she said. "Are you free soon, like tonight?"

"Sorry, Ema," said Lana. "I just drove up to Jake's place, actually, and I'm here for the rest of the week. Why don't we get together next Monday, though? I'll make reservations."

"O-oh. Alright," agreed Ema, somehow not surprised. "Let me know when it's figured out, okay?"

"Sure thing. Bye Ema!"

"Bye."

Ema sighed, tossing the phone back on its dock. Her conversation with Lana sobered her more than ever, considering it brought her lack of a life or friends to call her own to light. _I wonder how many people I know still go out to dine with their older siblings?_ she thought wryly.

* * *

_15 July 2026_

Ema kept glancing at her watch excitedly that day as she hovered over the crime scene. Patrolmen bustled around under Klavier Gavin's watchful eyes, investigating the crime at hand (yet again, another boring one) When the digits on her wristwatch displayed 4-o'clock, Ema paced towards, Klavier, tapping him nervously on the shoulder. She thought it would be best to ask him, as her superior, for permission to leave, considering the last time she marched out on her own it earned her a formal write-up.

"Prosecutor Gavin?" she ventured, keeping her town straight. Ever since she had been humiliated by him and Polly Justness in the trial of State vs. Tobaye, she was more reserved than usual around him. That didn't mean she let him push it, always armed with a snackoo. Klavier, however, hadn't changed a bit.

"Fräulein Skye! At last, you bless me with your voice—have you come to ask me out?" he said, holding his arms out with a grin.

Ema flushed. "_No,_" she said through gritted teeth. I'm asking your permission to leave—I've got somewhere to be and it's fairly important." _Please, Gavin, don't say anything I'll make you regret. Not now._

Klavier leaned forward, hands on his hips. "Ach, I'm hurt, Fräulein! You've run off and found a boyfriend while leaving me behind." He clearly had not gotten Ema's mental note to him about watching what he said.

"Gavin, I don't have a boyfr—it's not like that," she said sharply, reaching one hand into her purse formidably as she rooted around for a snackoo. "I'm meeting someone for dinner, and it just so happens to be a particularly _nice_ one. I need time to get ready, and to get over there. Alright?"

The blonde prosecutor sighed, shaking his head. He seemed to be entertaining a thought, but he shook it off, looking Ema in the eyes. "Alright, Fräulein. You may leave," he said, gesturing for her to pass by him with a flourish.

Ema couldn't believe it. _Did the fop just let me off free?_ she thought, bewildered. She gave Klavier a small nod, spinning around to leave, when the impact of his allowance really hit her. _Gavin. He didn't give me any shit. _Ema spun on her heels again before leaving, making eye contact with him one more time.

"Gavin… thanks."

* * *

Ema made it to dinner just in time, wearing a trim black and gold dress and her favorite heels. She preferred to go without jewelry, finding it too flashy, obnoxious, and just _foppish._ She met Lana outside the restaurant, greeting her with a polite hug. They exchanged their greetings and small talk before sitting down at their appointed reservation time.

Unfortunately enough for Ema, it didn't take long for Lana to get down to business, interrogating her about the people she was meeting at the precinct.

"You mentioned someone on the phone, didn't you, Ema?" said the ex-prosecutor with a smile on her face, pushing back her hair a bit. "Or rather, you alluded to him, I suppose. So, why don't you tell me about him?"

Ema immediately grew red, digging her fingers into her napkin. "God, it's not anything like _that,_ Lana," she said indignantly. "It's just this obnoxious new prosecutor who thinks he's all that. Like he was some rock star or something—except he is a rock star, apparently."

Lana chuckled. "You mean Klavier Gavin, prosecutor by day, rock god by night?" she supplied. "I'm surprised you didn't know about him before—he's only the biggest pop culture craze. Not that I follow that stuff or anything, though." She looked up as the server brought over a bottle of wine, displaying it for both sisters before pouring it.

"Ugh, Lana," groaned Ema, taking a sip, "I can't believe even you have fallen for those media traps! That glimmerous fop is a good-for-nothing flirt—why can't anybody but me see that? He has those legions of fans following him around everywhere, and—"

"Ema, calm down," said Lana. "We're in a restaurant, you know. The way you're shouting about this Gavin guy is a bit loud. If you care for him as little as you say you do, why make a big scene?"

Ema grumbled, squishing her napkin in a lap. Needless to say, the rest of the dinner didn't go so well for her after that remark.

* * *

_16 June 2026_

Ema passed by the criminal justice community bulletin board as she came in for work that morning, glancing over at it with mild curiosity. She wasn't sure what to expect when she got a chance to read the text.

_You're invited—to the 8__th__ annual Criminal Justice Beach Party! Detectives, take the day off for a relaxing jaunt to Gourdy Lake to participate in fun games and to soak up the sun. _

_-- Chief Detective_

Ema stared in disgust. Needless to say, she had _never_ been a beach person. And the final turnoff was a message scrawled under the signature: _BYOB._


	8. Chapter Seven: Crosswords

**author's note:** sorry it took me so long (by my standards, anyway) to get this up. I hope I've kept them in character so far... feel free to slap me if they're not. In any case, this chapter finally gets some good interaction in. And minimal scene switches to boot!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Despite her blaring aversion to a day at the beach (Ema always liked to think of herself as the mountain type, or the science lab type), Ema decided to go to the office party for solely two reasons: one, in around six months at her new job, she had failed to make anything more than a few faint friends and one annoyance. The second reason was much more scientific: technically speaking, said party wouldn't be going down at a beach, but a lake.

At least, that's what Ema told herself for comfort as she flung open her tiny closet sullenly, searching for something she could deem appropriate for a day at the beach/lake. She already knew there was no way in hell the could bear to wear a skimpy bathing suit on this outing, but the desperate need for a tan crossed her mind and she almost gave into the temptation to dig it out of her plastic bin of beachwear. Something stopped her, however, as the thoughts of a certain individual harassing her incessantly popped up.

Ema ended up picking out an outfit not too different from her usual regimen—she pulled on a scoop neck purple shirt with a flowing, ribbed exterior. Always the fan of her half-length pants, she picked out a dark pair of capris, buckling them with a loose belt. Though she was hardly dressed differently than she would on a normal day of work, she felt oddly casual without her lab coat on, and swung it over her shoulders, reveling in the sense of security it brought. As an afterthought, the detective grabbed the latest newspaper crossword puzzle and shoved it in her bag. _Just in case this beach day is worse than expected._

_

* * *

  
_

Ema's pen scratched against the newspaper as she filled in another word on the crossword puzzle, her third answer in thirty minutes. This was almost a new record! She glanced up briefly through her rose-tinted sunglasses to survey the party. Familiar faces were chatting around her while other lounged around in typical beachwear, enjoying the flawless sunny weather. _This hasn't been so bad, after all,_ she thought contently. _No fop in sight, it hasn't started raining or anything, and nobody's bothering me. Plus, I get brownie points for attending. And I have a whole bag of snackoos left. What more could you want?_

With a contented sigh, Ema stared down her paper, trying to search out a doable clue with no avail. She was so deep in thought that she barely noticed when the sun suddenly disappeared, and her unadjusted eyes were temporarily blinded. When she turned around to see what the cause it, shading her eyes with one hand, she almost had a heart attack.

Towering over her was Klavier Gavin, his usual silly grin plastered over his face as he leaned over, hands on his hips. His chain necklace dangled over his unbuttoned plum shirt, and sand dotted his shiny dark pants.

"Mind if I sit here, Fräulein Skye?" he said suavely, plopping down next to the bewildered detective without waiting for a response. He peered over her shoulder as she tried to ignore him, quickly scribbling a word into her puzzle, pressing down on the pen dangerously.

Ema just grumbled, not articulating a proper response to his unwelcome approach. She shot a quick glance his way, despite herself, quickly observing him. He was sitting opposite her on the sand without a towel, and seemed perfectly content to do so.

"Why aren't you off with your other detective friends, Fräulein?" asked Klavier innocently, still peering over Ema's shoulder. "I should think that you would be more socially active at a gathering such as this, ja?" He paused for a moment, focused on Ema's paper, before straightening up with a grin. "Oh, and try 'fretboard' for 24 across," he remarked, running a hand through his hair. "That one was simple; why didn't you get it, Fräulein?"

Ema looked up at him, debating whether to write in his answer or not. "Maybe I didn't know that so quickly because I'm not the glimmerous star of a rock band?" she supplied snidely before admitting defeat and penciling in his answer. "I mean, how am I supposed to know what takes up 58% of the space on the average guitar? And why are you here, anyway? This 'party' was supposed to be for detectives."

"Ah, Fräulein Skye, you forget," said Klavier airily, "that the invitation for this party was technically for the Criminal Justice department; with the way Herr Chief Detective worded it, any patrolman could step by—or any prosecutor. Plus, is it a crime to be curious and come to browse?"

Grumbling, Ema made an effort to ignore the prosecutor—she really did—but his chains catching the sun as he leaned over her, shadowing her puzzle, was incredibly distracting. She tossed a quick glance his way, running her eyes from his stomach to his face, reddening when their eyes met. "Wh-why are you still here, then? You've seen everything, so go join in or something. I'm working on a crossword puzzle here, you know. Please, go spread your foppish glory somewhere else." She scribbled in another word, pleased at herself. _Formaldehyde._

Klavier responded by lying down on his stomach next to Ema, still in the sand. He propped himself up on his arms and pulled down his sunglasses, covering icy blue eyes. "Well, you won't mind if I stay here," he responded, ignoring her blatant invitation for him to leave. "You could probably use some help with that puzzle of yours, ja? Oh, 61 down is 'Mill.' Another easy one you missed, Fräulein Detective!"

_Two words in two minutes,_ thought the brunette grudgingly. _For a fop, this guy is pretty good._ She glared at him before writing in the proper word. "Fine," she muttered. "You can stay there if you keep civil. Step out of line and you get snackoo'd. Got it, glimmer-boy?" Her tone turned dangerous as she fingered one of the dough snacks for a moment before suspiciously going back to the task at hand.

"Glimmer-boy. That's a new one; it seems Fräulein detective gets more creative with each passing day." Without warning, Klavier inched closer, shooting out his arm to grab Ema's bag of snackoos. Caught off-guard, the detective was stunned for a moment as she glared up at him. She reached up with one lazy arm to try to snatch them back, but Klavier immediately got on his feet, taking a few steps back until he was far out of range.

"Give those back!" called Ema with a bloodcurdling yell.

Klavier laughed, flipping his hair. He dangled the snackoos above his head with a grin, swinging them back and forth childishly. Indignant, Ema sprang up as well, despite herself, ignoring her aversion of sand as she leaped off the comfort of her towel. She chased after him, spraying grit with her bare feet as she did so. As the girl approached, Klavier took a few quick paces back, adeptly dodging her as she grabbed for her prize.

"Gavin! Those are mine!" she yelled in her outrage, ignoring the bewildered stares coming from her coworkers. "Dropping in on our beach day may not be a crime, but theft _is_ a punishable offense!"

"Oh?" mused Klavier, still dodging every assault she made with expert precision. It was an easy task to fend Ema off as she tried to snatch her beloved snacks back, and an absolutely entertaining one. She was flustered enough that she was reduced to clumsiness, almost falling twice. "Who will prosecute the big bad thief? Last time I checked, that would be one Klavier Gavin, ja?"

"You fop," grumbled Ema tiredly, making one last, disheartened grab for the snackoos. Her surprise was evident when she felt the bag placed in her hand, and saw Klavier leaning over her like he always did. She was about to tug it away when he lifted it out of her reach again.

"Ah, Fräulein Skye, I'll give you these back, under one condition," he said with one of his infamous Gavin smirks.

Ema wished she could shoot lasers with her eyes. Agreeing could be potentially dangerous. _Scientifically speaking,_ she mused, _agreeing to hear him out on the condition could end up having me overstep myself. And it's just one bag of snackoos… that's totally not worth it! Right?_

"Forget it, Gavin," she said, glaring obstinately ahead. She was about to stalk back to her towel, defeated and sandy, when her stomach gave an insistent growl.

"Achtung, Fräulein detective, I think you really should take these, and take the deal. All I want is to help with your troubling puzzle. That's hardly a bad deal, ja?" offered Klavier, handing her the bag of snackoos. "I would never expect you to react so fiercely about a few dough snacks."

Ema began to slowly calm down after she had snatched the snackoos back and had given the prosecutor a curt handshake to seal the deal, stalking back to her towel and flopping back down with a sigh. She tried to ignore Klavier's hovering presence as he lay next to her, calmly reading over each clue and trying to piece it into the grid.

"I've got one!" said Ema after a moment of concentration, quickly scribbling in her answer. Klavier leaned closer over her shoulder to look at it, ignoring her when she tensed.

"Chloroform?" he read slowly as she wrote in the letters. "Really, Fräulein, you seem to only be going after the clues that sound like scientific gibberish. Some of these can be answered with simple common sense." To illustrate, he pointed out a clue on the page. "That one's easy enough, ja?"

Ema furrowed her brow, racking her brain. She somehow appreciated his help, even if his voice condescended her relentlessly and the smug aura that he radiated pierced her more down-to-earth one, rubbing her all the wrong ways. "Oh…" she muttered, tapping the back end of her pen on the grid. "Eleven letters… Testimony, Verification. This is another lawyerly one! You're supposed to answers those, Gavin," she complained, thrusting the paper toward and pen toward him.

Surprised by her sudden friendliness, Klavier tried not to push it. He pushed the puzzle back towards Ema. "Achtung, Fräulein! This one takes nothing more than just a bit of sense. Think."

"No need to sound like you're so much older than me," grumbled Ema. She frowned for a moment, staring down the page before her face lit up with recognition. "Oh! Confirmation! That's definitely correct," she said excitedly, scribbling in the word.

Klavier smiled. Ema was almost sparkling, like she did whenever she pulled out a bottle of fingerprinting powder or luminol testing fluid. "If I may take a turn now, Fräulein?" he offered, plucking the pen from her right hand. "47 across. Fatal attraction."

Ema frowned. "Klavier, that's so wrong it's not even funny. That can't even fit! 47 across can only fit in five letters."

The blonde prosecutor just laughed, shaking his head.


End file.
